When the Wind Blows
by FantasyAndBrokenDreams
Summary: Somewhere in the dismal state of Massachusetts in the aftermath of an alien invasion, there is a grey warehouse. There lives a girl. Broken beyond repair, even before the invasion, the girl in unresponsive. Catatonic. What happened to her? Will she ever be recovered from the depths of her own mind? Lots of love to my beta, StarViky! No pairings for now. Might change in the future.
1. Prologue

**Well, I've decided to start a new story since The Changed is wrapping up. I have the first chapter already written but I won't post it until at least next weekend. I won't post any more than that until The Changed is officially finished. Let me know what you all think!**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from Falling Skies or the song Words by Skylar Grey._**

Prologue

3rd Person POV

_"The longer I stand here  
The louder the silence  
I know that you're gone but sometimes I swear that I hear  
Your voice when the wind blows  
So I talk to the shadows  
Hoping you might be listening 'cos I want you to know"_

Somewhere in the dismal state of Massachusetts in the aftermath of an alien invasion, there is a grey warehouse.

From the outside, it looks abandoned. Snow is falling lightly around it, burying the warehouse up to two feet above ground in some places. The lights outside still turn on due to the automatic timer, lighting up the area in an eerie fluorescent glow that vaguely reminded people of a dark alleyway.

But that isn't what scares people away from that place. From about twenty feet away, people start to hear it when the wind blows in their direction.

A voice. Singing.

It's a beautiful voice that could have made someone famous before the aliens came. But in this bitter, dark, abysmal place, it seems haunting.

She only sings sad songs.

She fills them with so much emotion that she brings even the most apathetic person to tears. But when someone gets closer, goes inside to find the holder of the beautiful voice, that's what really scares them away.

She could be called pretty.

Maybe even beautiful, before.

Her hair is long and lustrous. It falls down to her waist in soft, chocolate-brown curls with dark blonde highlights. Not frizzy, tight curls, but ones most can only achieve after hours of tireless effort with a curling iron. Even now, somehow she manages to keep it clean.

Her skin is a Snow White pale, which contrasts greatly with her hair and coral pink lips. She has a frail frame that is mostly hidden away under a heavy, woolen blanket. Those who dare to think back about their time with her wonder about how a girl who is so lost and distant seems so there in her physical appearance. Everything about her is flushed with color, from her chocolate hair and rosy cheeks to paint-splattered legs.

But what captures immediate attention are her eyes.

They were once the color blue of a clear sky, but have now faded to match the grey color of the warehouse where she resides. They are now flat and emotionless.

If eyes are the window to a person's soul, her soul has long ago left her body. Those who happened upon her have had nightmares for months about her bone-chilling eyes.

She sings and she paints.

That particular warehouse was full of art supplies. No one knows how she survived and found food when that warehouse was full of art paraphernalia. But she did and now she lives and sings and paints, not even looking at the canvas with her empty eyes.

She is an empty shell of a once vibrant person.

But for such a vacant person, she paints with beautifully bright, real colors. Ruby reds, sapphire blues, and emerald greens dominate her paintings, along with banana yellows, peachy oranges, and lime greens. Swirls of cotton-candy pink and eggplant purple sometimes pop out, but she rarely ever used grey or black or leaves white canvas blank.

Her paintings are a sign that maybe,

just maybe,

she's still back there in some far recess of her mind, hiding behind colorful canvases and sad songs.

But no one lingers long.

They stay for a night or two to rest. Maybe they attempt to strike conversation. But not for long. She never responds to anything, other than a smile resembling that of a mental patient. They find it all too easy to picture her in an all-white, bleached room.

So they go quickly.

Leaving the sad, lonely, vacant singing girl to her paintings.

And they see another horror as they leave. She stores a whole new kind of art outside. These paintings are gruesome; always showing a face similar to hers twisted into a terrified scream. Sometimes the girl's face is bloody and sometimes the background infringes onto the face, cutting whole chunks out.

The damp snow moistens the colors, causing them to run down the canvas in twisted, horror movie patterns. These paintings are misshapen and distorted, showing a warped reality in dark grays, nighttime blacks, and blood reds.

Dark red drips into the snow, leaving crimson ice in its path.

The grotesque scene out the back door encourages travelers to move along.

The never linger long.

They leave the girl in dark, frozen room alone.

So she sings and she sings and she sings.

_"So many questions  
But I'm talking to myself  
I know that you can't hear me anymore  
Not anymore  
So much to tell you  
And most of all goodbye  
But I know that you can't hear me anymore_

_Not anymore"_

**So, I know it's short, but it's just the prologue. Was it creepy enough? Too creepy? Good or bad? Let me know what you think! Review please!**


	2. Found

**Chapter uno, as promised. Unless I get more reviews, I'm going to delete this story. So if you like it, let me know with a review! :)**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Falling Skies or the song This is What Makes Us Girls by Lana Del Ray._**

Chapter 1

_"Remember how we used to party up all night  
Sneaking out and looking for a taste of real life"_

_ "Come on Bri!" a girly, giggly voice called out. A tall, skinny girl with long dark hair pulled on the arm of a slightly shorter, younger-looking girl with the same dark hair, but with blonde highlights. The two girls linked their stick-thin arms together and leaned into each other as they laughed, carefree and innocent._

_"Cassia, slow down!" the younger girl, Bri, whined playfully as the older one, Cassia, dragged her down the sidewalk._

_Cassia pursed her large, ruby-painted lips and marginally slowed her pace for Bri. "We only have two hours to find the PERFECT outfit. I have to look amazing tonight!"_

_Bri raised her gold Dior sunglasses so Cassia could see her roll her black-lined, mascara-coated baby blues at her. Cassia shrieked and shoved Bri lightly, sticking her tongue out childishly at the younger girl._

_"Oh, please. Rob is head over heels for you. He wouldn't care if you showed up in a trash bag!" Bri pouted her hot pink lipstick-coated mouth with play jealousy. Cassia sighed dramatically._

_"But I care, and so would the one hundred other people who will be at that party!" she cried, throwing her arm over Bri's shoulders. "Which is why I have to find a perfect outfit! Plus, Mom would only give me two hundred because I told her I just needed some new jeans, so we are going to have to be thrifty."_

_"Ugh is she on that whole you-should-be-grateful-for-what-you-have-because-a-lot-of-people-don't-have-it thing again?" Bri groaned and stuck her finger down her throat and faked retching. Cassia threw her head back, cackling. The sun caught her hair and lit up the red strands that were normally hidden to the world. Carefree and happy like this, she was absolutely gorgeous._

_"Yes, unfortunately," Cassia twisted her lovely features into a grimace. "She's even thinking about lowering our allowance to five hundred dollars a month! And…" she paused for dramatic effect. "She's considering making us volunteer!"_

_"No!" Bri shrieked, horror painting her equally lovely face. "Ugh, I'd have to, like, actually help people! And there's no way I can only have five hundred a month! How am I going to keep up with my highlights, shop, and have my daily latte on only five hundred?!"_

_"I know! All that for me minus the highlights, but plus my cigarettes!" Cassia yelled, throwing her dainty arms into the air. "She is being completely impossible! But I'm going to talk to Daddy. He'll talk some sense into her."_

_"Oh thank goodness," Bri sighed, throwing her hand on her forehead and sinking into her sister, pretending to faint. "Just don't get caught sneaking out tonight again or leave your smoky clothes all over the floor, or you'll blow it!"_

_"Oh, stop it! It was only once!" Cassia darted out of the way, laughing as Bri almost fell. "Now come on, we have to get shopping!"_

_"Fine, let's go!" Bri grabbed her sister and pulled her into the mall, both exuding innocence and joy._

_"The prettiest in crowd that you had ever seen  
Ribbons in our hair and our eyes gleamed mean…"_

They were out on a scouting mission. After leaving Charleston, they quickly ran out of supplies. Weaver hadn't accounted for so much of the original Second Mass leaving. He expected at least half of the civilians to stay in Charleston, where it was safe. But only ten civilians opted to stay. A majority of them decided that Weaver had kept them alive so far, and he was the only one they trusted.

So the little amount of food Manchester had allotted to them only lasted a few short days before they were running on a few packs of instant white rice. Weaver sent Tom, Maggie, Ben, and Hal out to search for food and water.

Maggie had heard a few whispers about the warehouse when staying in Charleston. She told Tom that she had been told about a grey warehouse full of food with only one girl using it. They debated the risk with Weaver for a while, but decided if they were able to get the drop on her, she would be of no harm. Besides, they didn't know if she would be hostile.

They decided to send Maggie in first, with only a small handgun hidden in her jacket. They didn't want the girl to feel threatened in any way.

Maggie came out after only a few moments, an unreadable look on her face.

"Come on in," she called, a dark tone to her voice.

Tom and Ben exchanged a suspicious glance before following Hal into the warehouse. On their way in, they saw the stack of gruesome paintings. Something was obviously wrong here.

"Maybe we should just go," Ben suggested to his father in a hushed tone. "Something doesn't feel right here."

"I know," Tom rubbed his chin anxiously. "But we need food. And Maggie wouldn't purposefully lead us into danger."

"I know, but…" Ben trailed off, unsure of how to voice the uneasy feeling that had curled up inside him.

"Keep your gun ready," Tom warned as they carefully pushed open the door to the warehouse.

The sight before them came as a complete shock. They had expected a girl who had a few weapons, maybe defensive and hostile, who didn't trust them. What they got was a girl who completely ignored them.

A pretty girl with dark-ish hair sat on the floor in front of a partially completed canvas. A dark red blanket was spread over her tiny shoulders. She wore an overly large grey sweatshirt that displayed her prominent collarbones and black Soffe shorts that gaped at the thighs, along with a pair of fuzzy grey socks. Her dainty legs were crossed, covered in both paint splatters and goose bumps alike, and she held a paintbrush dipped in green in her trembling right hand.

"Hello," Tom walked in front of her and gave her a friendly smile. "We're sorry to disturb you, but we were wondering if you could spare some food."

The girl didn't even look up from her painting. She didn't acknowledge their presence in any way.

"Um, hello?" Tom questioned. "Are you all right?"

The girl just looked up blankly. She gave him an escaped mental patient-esque smile and returned to her painting, humming softly.

"What the hell?" Hal finally caught on to the eerie air in the room.

"She did that when I walked in, too. Something isn't right here," Maggie frowned.

Tom sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. Absentmindedly, he made a mental note to have Anne cut it when he got back.

"What do we do?" Ben asked, lowering his gun but still keeping it in his hands rather than on his shoulder.

"We can't just steal all the food and leave," Maggie argued. "She'll starve."

"And?" Hal asked. "It's not like the world couldn't use one less crazy."

Maggie shot him an angry glare. "We are not going to leave her here. That's cruel."

"Dad, what do you think?" Ben asked, rolling his eyes as he ignored the arguing couple.

Tom sighed again, stroking the stubble on his chin. Weaver would probably have his head if he brought back this girl. He'd call her a useless waste of resources and order her away. But then again, they couldn't leave her here. Maggie was right' that was just cruel. Especially since they were planning on taking her food.

"We'll bring the girl," he decided. Maggie nodded while Hal groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. "Hal, Ben, help me get the food in the back of the truck. Maggie, see if you can get her into the front of the truck. We move out in fifteen minutes."

Tom, Hal, and Ben stuffed the food into black canvas bags that they found scattered across the floor. It only took ten minutes for them to get all the food into the truck. Maggie had an even easier time than them. It didn't take much coaxing to get the girl into the truck. Maggie, feeling a little sentimental, packed some of the paints and brushes and a few of the better paintings into a duffle, along with a pile of clothes she found in the corner.

One garment made her freeze. A thick white straightjacket lay crumpled and buried at the bottom of the pile. Maggie quickly threw the straightjacket in the bag, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one noticed. They would insist on leaving the girl behind if they saw it.

So she didn't tell them.

The girl sat in the front of the truck, shivering. She clutched the thick blanket around her shoulders until her hands turned white.

After only thirteen minutes, they took off. Hal and Tom took off on motorcycles first, while Maggie drove the truck. Ben sat in the back, watching the warehouse fade to nothing on the horizon. And the girl sat silently in the front, a single tear streaking down her face.

_"This is what makes us girls  
We all look for heaven and we put our love first  
Somethin' that we'd die for, it's our curse  
Don't cry about it _

_Don't cry about it"_

**Ok, there you go! Review please :)**


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